


This is Not That Kind of Love Story

by ThatAj



Series: Exposure: One Step at a Time [11]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV First Person, POV Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Relationship Discussions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 13:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16724268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatAj/pseuds/ThatAj
Summary: "Considering we never had a cat or a houseplant or anything, they were really our first acquisition as a couple."Brian and Justin have new friends.





	This is Not That Kind of Love Story

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my readers (I’m looking at you Daydreams21 and LaVieEnRose) who pointed out that it wasn’t clear the part of this series called “Of Dream and Of Nightmares” was two chapters. So if you missed the second chapter, “Of Nightmares,” it’s there for your reading pleasure! I’ve also learned my lesson about overcomplicating this shit.

I was over at Tori and Ana’s all the time. It started because Adeline is a bit younger than JR and even smaller than JR was for her age. I had never really given much thought to the size of babies - I mean why would I? But given how petite Mel is and how short and skinny Michael is, it would make sense, at least to me, that they would cook up a small baby but I guess JR was average size for her age. And, I learned, Gus was tall for his age - which makes sense because Linds is tall and Brian is statuesque. All that to say, Linds and Mel gave Adeline all JR’s hand-me-downs and some clothes of Gus’s that JR had worn and were now on their third go-round. Ana and Tori happily accepted any and all clothes from the other lesbians. Tori because reusing “perfectly good clothes” was better for the earth or some such shit and Ana because “I’m a fucking musician, we don’t have any money, we’ll take all the free shit we can get.” Although, I guess the line around the environment and budgeting was drawn at the frilly shit Michael had bought for JR. Tori would hold up the pink dresses covered in bows and scrunch up her face and say “Let’s...donate this” and put it in a bag where it would sit by the door for weeks until Ana finally threw it in the garbage when Tori was at work.

So originally I was just ferrying clothes from one lesbian family to another because what the fuck else was I doing? I could only work so many hours at the diner, my painting was still for shit and therefore not taking up much time, Daphne was in class or attending meetings for student organizations she had joined to fluff up her med school applications, and everyone else worked like regular adults. I could only spend so long at the comic book shop working on Rage with Michael. So I ran errands.

And sometimes babysat Gus and JR or Adeline. Then Tori’s grandmother in Maryland got sick and Tori and Ana had to go visit. And they couldn’t take Adeline because she was a baby who shouldn’t be around a bunch of sick people in the hospital until she was done with all her vaccinations, at least. And Matty had to go because it was his grandmother too. And that’s how I wound up being asked to watch Adeline overnight. Which. I. Did. Not. Want. To. Do.

Molly had assured me a million times that she wasn’t traumatized for life (either by my nightmare or Brian trying to initiate phone sex with her) and that I had barely hurt her. Brian has assured me as much as Brian was going to assure anyone of anything, that I had been asleep and no one held me accountable for moving about in my sleep. And even my mom assured me that, yes Molly was her baby, but she wasn’t angry at me and was more upset to hear I had a nightmare... _unlike when you were eight and Molly was one and you tried to put her in the kitchen trash so she would be thrown out with the garbage, Justin._

Tori and Ana even knew about what had happened with Molly (recently, not when she was one) and were not at all worried I would harm a hair on Adeline’s head (I mean, she was nearly bald, one hair was all the kid had). As Ana put it, “What the fuck would we be worried about? You would have a nightmare in the guest room, get up, walk to her crib in our room, lower the side, pick her up and hurt her? That’s like some magical ass nightmare you would be having. At the end of the day, she’s probably safer with you being all worried about hurting her than anyone else.”

So I got talked into watching Adeline for the night. Just one night I kept telling myself. I had done this plenty of times with Gus. “But that was before” kept echoing in my mind.

Just like before, I took care of her like any baby. And just like what had become normal I divided my mind. Half focused on warming her bottle and testing it on the inside of my wrist. Another mistake I would never repeat. Half focused on feeding her and burping her. And half focused on putting all these terrifying thoughts into a box in the dark recesses of my mind. I did not want to hurt her. I did not want to hurther. The images of her bloodied and screaming were not real. The images of her burned and mouth opened to scream but no sound coming out were not real. I wasn’t hurting her. She was fine. She was fine. She was fine. I was fine.

I rocked her and sang Yellow Submarine. I didn’t shake her. It was okay to rock her. I wasn’t hurting her. I put her in her swing just to be safe. I kept singing.

Adeline fell asleep in the swing and I gently, carefully lifted her and walked her over and placed her in her crib in the girls’ room. I delicately picked up each limb one by one and inspected them to make sure there weren’t any cuts or bruises or whateverthefuck I might have missed. I ran my hands up and down the crib mattress to make sure there wasn’t anything - a pin or something - that could poke her and hurt her. I didn’t stop to think about how it didn’t make any sense that I could have left a pin in the baby’s crib. I popped the snaps on her onesie open and checked her chest for bruises or cuts. I didn’t dare wake her up to check her back. I would check when she needed a diaper change, I told myself. She would be okay. She would be okay. She would be okay. I checked her arms and legs and her hands and feet one more time. I tried to focus on closing the lid on this box in my mind. I made myself turn and walk out of the room, double, then triple-checking the baby monitor was on and working.

I settled on the couch and turned the TV on so low I couldn’t hear it. I finally muted it and turned on the closed captioning. I didn’t want to wake her but more than anything I didn’t want to miss hearing her if she cried. I brewed some coffee because fuck what everyone else said, I was not falling asleep and risking having a nightmare. Not on my watch, baby.

Hours passed and my phone rang. As I looked at the caller ID, I realized that Tori and Ana hadn’t called to check in, to check up on me. It was Brian.

“Hey,” I answered.

“Hey there,” Brian drawled, slightly out of breath.

There was a pause and I listened to him breathing.

“Brian...are you there with a trick?”

“You did promise me.”

“I’m babysitting!”

“Yeah with a baby! Even if she wakes up, she’s not going understand what’s going on! It’s not like she speaks English!”

“Fine, fine... What does he look like?”

Brian sighed, contentedly, “Tall, slim swimmer’s build, uhhh, olive skin, blue eyes...like yours. Brown hair, short buzzed cut…”

“Mmm, hot. Areyou at the loft?”

“Mmhmm, sitting on the couch, he’s kneeling in front of me. What are you wearing?”

We went back and forth and I’ll admit it, Brian’s fantasy come to life was pretty fucking hot. I mean, whenever we’ve acted one of his fantasies it’s been fucking hot. He didn’t get the reputation he has from nowhere.

“Alright, Sun-Justin. I’ve got to show our gentleman caller to the door. Have a good night, okay?”

“Okay, good night stud.”

I hung up and laid my head against the back of the couch and fell asleep and didn’t wake up until Tori and Ana were shaking me awake the next morning.

That was my only overnight with Adeline. I usually only babysat in the evenings but even then they rarely needed it. Mostly, I would run errands over to their house and Ana, being a musician, didn’t work during the day and was “bored out of her fucking skull” (her words, not mine) being a de facto stay-at-home mom, she would invite me to stay whenever I brought hand-me-downs over. If by invite, you mean, “Please Justin, I swear to fucking christ if I don’t have some adult interaction soon, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”

It was nice that someone saw me as an adult. I swear that to everyone else I was still that 17 year old kid following Brian around like one of Lorenz’s goslings.

And spending time at Ana and Tori’s was nice. Their house was small but warm and homey. Ana was always playing music. At first it seemed like just background music but then Ana would interrupt herself, or me, or whomever was talking, calling out, “Wait did you hear that” as she dashed over to the stereo to pause, rewind, and replay whatever demonstration of musical genius she wanted to make sure everyone heard so they could appreciate it as much as she did. As a drummer, she was also nearly constantly keeping a beat with her hands, or fingers, or feet. You would think I would have had enough of musicians to last me a lifetime, but Ana was the opposite of Ethan. Or as much the opposite as you could be and still be a musician. She definitely didn’t listen to classical shit, just regular stuff like the Beatles, or Radiohead, or Nirvana. And sure there was a good amount of Ani DiFranco, and the Indigo Girls, and Melissa Ferrick, and Brandi Carlile, but Ana would shrug a shoulder whenever they would come on shuffle and say, “Whaddaya want? We’re lesbians, we don’t want to get our cards revoked. I’m only two recruitments away from earning a toaster.”

Adeline was going to grow up with amazing taste in music. Or, knowing kids, hate music altogether as a way of rebelling.

So I would spend my days with Ana, drinking coffee, playing with Adeline, and just shooting the shit. We talked a little about her experience with postpartum depression, how it felt when it got really bad and scary, and her experience of recovery (“Therapy, meds, and just fucking sleeping through the goddamn night.”) When Tori got home from work, and if she wasn’t working the next day, and Ana wasn’t playing with Barn Door, and Adeline was asleep, we would switch from coffee to Beam. I would do impressions of all the guys and Debbie, and tell them about Vic, and share embarrassing stories about how I stalked Brian until I wore him down and made him just totally fucked for me. They had a large rescue pitbull, Izzy, who thought she was a lapdog, and an old orange tabby, Hugo, who thought he was a hat. They were relaxed parents, which I had never thought about (I mean no one my age was having kids, we all knew where the clinic was) until I had them to contrast with Mel and Linds. Not that Mel and Linds were...uptight. They had just read some parenting books and had specific ways about how things should and should not be done, which was always loads of fun when Brian and I watched Gus and he came with a 30 page instruction manual. Tori as a psychiatric nurse would shrug and say, “As long as we care and pay attention, we’re not going to fuck her up. It takes a lot to really fuck up a kid.” And Ana was, well Ana.

I remember running into Mel and Linds on the street just after I had met Brian and telling Daphne that they were “Brian’s lesbians.” Sure, over time, they became my friends as well.

You could have called Tori and Ana “Justin’s lesbians” except they weren’t. Because on those nights when Tori wasn’t working the next day, and Ana wasn’t playing with Barn Door, Brian would come over after work and we would have dinner together and drink wine and turn on an old movie in the background and just hang out and talk. Old movies like Back to the Future, not old like whatever shit Brian likes to watch when he’s morose. They landed right between us in age so I didn’t perpetually feel like a kid and Brian didn’t feel like a grandpa or whatever it was he felt like when it was just me and Daphne. So they weren’t “Justin’s lesbians” they were “our lesbians,” and considering we never had a cat or a houseplant or anything, they were really our first acquisition as a couple.

And Ana would ask Brian things that no one who actually knew him would ask him in a million years like, “Why do you call Justin ‘Sunshine?’”

Ever since that totally awkward night at Woody’s that started off a new lecture series on the benefits of monogamy, when Ana first commented on my nickname, I noticed Brian rarely called me that anymore or would catch himself part way so that my name had become “Sunjustin.”

“It’s...uh, a nickname.”

“No shit it’s a nickname, unless Mrs.Taylor was a hippie.”

“Jennifer Taylor is no hippie.” God just trying to imagine my mom, dressed in chinos from Ann Taylor at the country club but smelling of patchouli and giving her kid the name Sunshine, made me laugh.

“Debbie gave it to him the first time she met him...I didn’t see it at first but then, I finally…” Brian’s voice trailed off.

As we sat around their living room, I remembered standing in a parking garage, hearing Brian’s voice thick with unshed tears, _“And then I knew why Debbie calls you Sunshine.”_ And turning around to see him bent at the waist trying to hold his shit together because as much as he was suffering he knew I was suffering more and the last thing he wanted was for me to be fucking comforting him.

“It’s just what everyone calls me now,” I rushed to say. I might have been useless at helping Brian then, right after the bashing, but this shit, not making him talk about it, remember it anymore than he absolutely had to, that I could do. Even as fucked up as I was at the time, as fucked up as I still am, I could do that.

“It sounds like a fucking lot of pressure.” Ana turned so she was facing me directly. “Is it?”

“Ana,” Tori began.

“What?” Ana shot back. “I would fucking hate it if every time someone spoke to me or about me, they were putting pressure on me to be fucking smiling and happy all the goddamn time.”

“You’re not Justin,” Tori said quietly.

I could feel Brian watching me. It sounds like the stupidest most fantasy fairy tale shit, but I just know, I can just fucking tell, when he enters a room or when he’s looking at me. Even with all the deficits since the bashing, all the difficulties in communicating and not realizing we weren’t using the same language anymore, even with all that, I still had that, that sense that never went away. Even when I was with Ethan. That’s how I knew as much fun as we had, as happy as I was with him for a time, that there was a timeline, a conclusion, to what we had. Because that shit with Brian, it never went away. That’s why I don’t need Brian to say shit he doesn’t say or define us in a way he won’t, because I fucking know, this stuff, this thing we have, there’s no conclusion, there’s no timeline.

I could feel him watching me and waiting, measuring me out. Trying to understand. Attempting to know whether he had somehow caused me pain, somehow did something to make what I was dealing with worse. And I remembered him walking out of the hospital, punishing himself, believing he was somehow responsible directly and in some big cosmic sense, for every fucking thing that had gone bad in my life. I wanted to ask, to shout at him really, “And who is to blame for the shit that happened to you?” But I don’t, because the answer is always, always him. Whether it’s his pain, my pain, Michael’s pain, it’s always him. And if he somehow can’t warp the situation to make the pain his fault, he still takes on all the responsibility to fix it, no matter the cost to him. And it always comes at a cost, a loss of love in his life. A life surrounded by walls with too few cracks to let much love in. But he believes that being worthy of these people, of us, comes at the cost of that love, a cost he must pay over and over again.

As much as he is not responsible for either my depression, my PTSD, or my recovery, I know I’m not responsible for his deep seated shit. We’re not together to fix each other; this is not that kind of love story.

“No, I’m not Justin,” Ana does not match Tori’s quiet voice. She brings the conversation out in the open, doesn’t fucking care if it makes me or Brian feel awkward and in doing so makes me feel a lot less awkward. There’s nothing more awkward than a couple whisper arguing right in front of you.

She turns and addresses all of us, “But I’ve fucking been depressed and there’s already enough guilt, enough feeling like you’re letting everyone, and yourself, way the fuck down.” She put up her hands in a defensive posture, “I know, I know, I don’t _need_ to feel guilty, I haven’t actually let anyone down. But the guilt is there because it’s a part of the depression and the more guilty you feel, the more depressed, and the more depressed, the more you feel you’re letting everyone down. And that’s without the added layer of this expectation from fucking everyone that not only are you not going to be depressed, but you’re also going to bring sunshine into their miserable lives? _You’re_ going to cheer _them_ the fuck up?” She turned to Brian directly, “Because...do you know what depression feels like?”

“...Rain?” Brian offered.

“No,” Ana said gently. “Rain is good. The earth needs rain. Rain is cuddling up all cozy with tea and a good book. Depression is just fucking overcast, just clouds. No sun, no rain. No nothing.”

_Depression is a big fat nothing. Just nothing at all. The total absence of anything._

“I mean, it’s difficult enough pasting on a fake smile when you’re feeling like shit. I’ve seen the way Justin lights up from the inside. But calling him Sunshine, that’s a whole lotta fucking pressure to put on someone when it’s hard enough to just fake a regular smile.”

Tori spoke up then, “Justin do _you_ feel that way? That everyone calls you Sunshine because you’ve been this happy kid and now that’s your role in their lives?”

“I…” I was at a loss. Yes, it did feel like a metric ton of pressure, sometimes, when I really gave thought to it. A heavy weight sitting on my chest making it hard to breathe. But how do I answer this? What was the right answer with Brian sitting right there fucking watching me like that? Brian would never want anything but the absolute truth no matter how much it hurt. But I couldn’t knowingly hurt him. If he calls me Sunshine because I had been this happy kid and that’s how he saw me, I couldn’t just say that felt like it was suffocating me when I knew what that would do to him. I know I just said I’m not responsible for him but it’s one thing to know that and it’s another thing to know that what you say could seal up one of the few small cracks where love is allowed to seep in.

“That’s not how I see it,” Brian spoke so quietly I almost didn’t hear him. But I did hear him and I felt paralyzed. Because even though you might desperately want to know how he feels about something, you don’t ask Brian Kinney about feelings.

Unless, of course, you assume Brian is a regular person and not someone to be approached about what he thinks or how he feels like he’s a feral cat. Which is clearly what Tori assumed, since she turned to Brian and asked, “What do you mean? How do you see it?”

“Justin...doesn’t, he doesn’t let anyone tell him how to live,” Brian continued to speak so quietly, I was straining to hear him. And he was staring at the floor like it held the secrets to never aging. “I mean, yeah, I fucking understood the first time Debbie called him Sunshine. It’s his smile. But...when I - I finally got it- that he knew what he wanted, and nothing, not even me, made him...and this was even before all...”

The four of us sat quietly for what seemed like a million years. Melissa Ferrick playing softly in the background.

_I want you_

_To know me_

_To need me_

_Smile when I call your name_

_I want you_

_To never_

_Look at_

_Anyone else this way*_

Ana was nodding. “I’ve only known you guys, known Justin, for a short time, but I can see that persistence in him.”

“It was finally fucking acknowledging...” And somehow Brian’s voice was even quieter as he trailed off.

Thinking about what happened mere seconds after Brian apparently acknowledged to himself that he wanted...I wasn’t sure exactly what... but maybe it was that he wanted whatever persistence or strength he saw in me somehow for himself or….maybe it was that wanted me in his life... or maybe both. What fucking happened as soon as Brian gave himself some permission to believe he could be that person and he could have someone...could have me love him. What happened was a bat to the brain. Any memory or understanding I might have had of that moment gone forever. And we know this story, I just told you this story. The pain someone else experiences is Brian’s fault, the pain Brian feels is deserved. Everything that happened after he dared to give himself some fucking permission just proved to him again how undeserving he is.

“It doesn’t bother me,” I said as strongly as I could, not allowing my voice to betray a trace of emotion, a reaction to what Brian had just admitted. I had to shut this conversation down before Tori and Ana started asking questions about what Brian was talking about that neither Brian nor I wanted to, or really could, answer.

If everyfuckingone else who called me Sunshine meant it about my smile, about me being a happy kid I hadn’t been since I had taken a bat to my brain. If everyone else wanted to maintain their happy delusion about who Justin Taylor is, fuck them, that’s fine. I don’t feel a goddamn ounce of pressure to be anything for them because if I did, I would have cracked from the pressure long ago.

But since becoming depressed, since Ana made that comment, I did wonder. I wondered if Brian saw me as that happy kid or, even if he knew I wasn’t that right then, if he was expecting me to go back to who that kid was. And that didn’t even make any sense because some of those changes are just the changes of growing up and not being 17, 18 anymore. But you can’t understand, I can hardly explain what it’s like to feel different in some way that is so incredibly big that you believe it must be glaringly obvious, it must be manifested in some physical change, something everyone can see, and only to realize that no one has any idea. It’s all invisible to them. And Brian who could at least at that point see it, see me for me, to not know if he was waiting for me to suddenly return to who I had been when Debbie first called me Sunshine. It felt like everyday I was scraping myself from the inside trying to somehow find something inside me that I knew wasn’t there and I knew wasn’t coming back but scraping nonetheless and everyday so there was not time to heal and I was raw and bleeding. And to learn that that wasn’t true at all. He wasn’t waiting. He never saw me that way because he had always really seen me and even before, before it all, I was never some kid who was only a smile.

He saw me as strong. He saw me as capable. And to know that there was a moment when it meant Brian believed that he could be, he already was, strong and capable too. And that he wanted me, the me he saw as strong and as capable, in his life. And if that’s what he meant when he called me Sunshine, “It doesn’t bother me when people call me ‘Sunshine,’ whatever they mean by it. It would actually be more depressing for everyone to stop - like ‘Oh Justin’s depressed now, we need to tiptoe around him, don’t call him ‘Sunshine’ he’s too delicate for that kind of pressure.’”

In my peripheral vision I saw Brian huff out a breath and sit back in his chair. And Tori and Ana had somehow heard enough in what little Brian had said and what I had said to feel satisfied.

“Did we tell you we’re thinking of moving to LA? Brian, did Ted finally have those numbers for you?”

“Finally yeah. I think he was purposefully dragging his feet because when Mikey finds out he was helping me…”

“Ted’s your employee, isn’t he?” Tori asked.

“My CFO, yeah. Lesson learned kids, don’t hire your friends. Their fucking feelings about shit gets all mixed up in stuff like moving across the country.”

“Well we’re not your employees. I’d like to think maybe we’re your friends at this point. We’re going to have fucking feelings if you move across the country!” Tori exclaimed.

“Lesson learned, kids. Don’t have friends. They have feelings.”

“Oh fuck off. I don’t know what shit your other friends let you pull, but you can’t fool us,” Ana interjected.

Brian looked at me, “You’ll help me hide the bodies, right?

I tilted my head and looked at him for a moment. “I don’t think they allow queer conjugal visits, so, yeah sure.” I turned to Tori and Ana. “Sorry, I was really starting to like you.”

“Well fuck, I don’t want you guys to move, but I do love LA,” Ana shared. “I lived there for years. Moved there right after high school. I was in a band, The Tide. It was a fucking awesome time.”

“She means she fucked every girl in the city, gay or straight,” Tori said trying to seem upset but clearly proud of how hot her partner was...is.

“Yeah, it was crazy. A lot of coke, a lot of whiskey. Got into a bar fight once.”

“Once that you remember.”

“True, true. God, I loved it there.”

“Why did you move to Pittsburgh then?” Brian was clearly struggling to understand why his female doppelganger had given up what would be his ideal life.

“Well, I’m from the area originally and I was back here visiting and met this one,” she gestured to Tori. “And we did the long distance thing for awhile, but flying back and forth was hard. Her work schedule is inconsistent, and I always had gigs on weekends. And, I mean, my family is here and friends from growing up. I’ve known the guys in Barn Door since high school and that band was just getting together and I knew we could be good. The Tide was kind of falling apart. Plus LA is fucking expensive. At the end of the day, there was just so much about moving back that made sense.”

“She means she did it for lovvvvve,” Tori teased.

Ana turned to Brian. “Save me, I promise I’ll never let anyone know you have feelings and I’ll help you hide her body.”

Adeline started fussing over the baby monitor and Tori went to check on her.

“Seriously, guys, LA is amazing. I daydream about moving back. I’ve even spoken with Tori about it.”

“Oh yeah?” Brian was interested. If Ana loved LA so much, that was just more points in the pro column.

“Yeah. I mean right now it wouldn’t make sense. Adeline is so young, we like that we can leave her with Matty if we need to. When she’s older and it makes more sense to get a sitter who isn’t family or whatever, maybe then.”

“How would Matty feel, you moving her to California?” I was curious. Brian and I hadn’t discussed what moving would mean for his relationship with Gus. Lindsey would obviously not be pleased, to say the least.

Ana shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter how he would feel. Part of our contract is that we can move without his permission.”

“Right from a legal, father standpoint. But as an uncle? Wouldn’t he miss being part of her life? Plus he and Tori are so close.” I tried to imagine if Molly was old enough and had a kid, how I would feel not being a part of their daily life, not getting to see them grow up. Or even how I would feel being that far from Gus, who was the closest I had to a niece or nephew at that point.

“Whether Tori would miss being close by her family, close by Matty, that’s the question. Whether I would miss being near my family, what would happen with Barn Door, that’s another question. If you move, you move, people are going to be sad. They’re going to miss you. You can’t let that make your decision for you. But how much you’ll miss them, how sad you’ll be to not be part of their daily lives, that’s part of making the decision, for sure.”

Tori walked back in and faced Ana. “Just needed a diaper change. Are you telling them about your dreams of moving back to LA?”

“She is. What are your thoughts?” Brian would get the brunt of whatever reaction a move would cause, especially from Michael and Lindsey.

She shrugged, “I would consider it - when Adeline’s older.”

“Like how old is older?” Brian was also realizing that we had avoided talking about Gus in our discussions.

“I don’t know, four? Five? Old enough so she can talk a little on the phone. Old enough that she has developed relationships with Matty and her grandparents so she understands who they are when we return to visit or they come to California.”

Gus would be five next September. Video calls were becoming more common and accessible. Brian used that technology for business all the time and easily had the means to give Melanie and Lindsey a set up so he could use it with Gus, which would be even better than talking on the phone. If Melanie and Lindsey agreed to that. There wasn’t a contract with Melanie and Lindsey the way Tori and Ana had with Matty. And even if Matty hadn’t been Adeline’s father, he was her uncle and always would be. Brian had no legal rights, no family relationship, and Mel and Linds held all the power.

“What is making you think about moving to LA?” Tori asked.

“I wanted to be close to all the best plastic surgeons since this one doesn’t seem to age.” Brian gestured at me. “In a few years I’m going to look like a creep when I’m fucking him and he still looks barely legal.”

“You already look like a creep,” I joked, knowingly putting my life at risk.

“Enough, you two. Seriously, why LA?” Tori asked again.

Brian went on to explain the potential business opportunity but you could tell that, much like me, they weren’t buying expanding his business as a reason for considering uprooting our lives.

“Wait, Justin, you lived in LA for a bit, didn’t you?” Ana asked.

“Yeah, for a few months when they thought they were going to make Rage into a live action movie. I was working on pre-production.”

“Woah Rage as a live action movie? That’s so fucking cool! When’s that coming out?”

I sighed and began to explain why the movie had been cancelled. Tori whispered to Ana, “Let’s stay on topic.”

Brian added, “There’s a great animation program at one of the schools out there. Justin has always wanted to be an animator.”

Understanding suddenly washed over both Tori and Ana’s faces. Tori asked, “What about PIFA?”

They both knew I had attended several, non-consecutive, semesters there. “Justin is looking into if his credits would transfer, but PIFA doesn’t have an animation program.”

Tori sighed softly, “In substance abuse recovery, there’s this saying…”

Brian groaned, “Oh god it’s like another Ted and Blake.”

Tori ignored him and kept talking, “It’s called ‘pulling a geography’ this idea that leaving and starting over is the magic cure. But it isn’t, Justin, because wherever you go, there you are.”

“Hey hey! Don’t ‘Justin’ me like this was my idea! He came back from a business trip to LA with this fakakta idea.”

“And clothes from American Apparel for you, don’t forget. I somehow wound up doing a campaign for an entire brand built on the supposition that other people dress as terribly as you do.”

“Okay, fine, he came home with this fakakta idea and lots of clothes that he will eventually steal from me and wear when no one else will bear witness to his secret shame of enjoying comfortable clothes.”

Tori and Ana looked at each other and smiled and Ana spoke for the two of them, addressing Brian, “Ohhhh, you love him so much.”

“No such thing. I don’t know where you’re getting this nonsense from.”

“You do. You love him and you think he’ll be happier in LA. Someplace he can do the art he enjoys. Someplace where he’s not surrounded by people who expect him to be something he’s not, he no longer is. People who haven’t given him room to grow and change.”

“It’s a great business opportunity that happens to be a in city with a good animation program. He could be a writer, I wouldn’t move us to fucking Iowa,” Brian insisted and then scoffed, “Love! What the fuck.”

“So Ted did confirm it was a solid business decision?” I realized he had never answered the question from earlier.

“Yeah, the numbers look good if we stick to the small office and doing the art remotely using the Pitts art department.”

“Look at you two, it’s like you can’t even see it.” Tori was trying not to laugh.

“See what?” Brian sounded annoyed in a way that I knew he was not as upset as he seemed.

“How much you love each other. Brian you thought up this move for Justin. But Justin it’s clear you think this move would be good for Brian…”

“Yeah _for my business_ ,” Brian insisted.

“No, no that’s not it. Or rather, that’s not the only reason. Justin’s told me enough stories about your family of friends. They love you, it’s clear but just like you want him to be someplace free from all the expectations that he’s still this sunshiney kid, he wants you to also be someplace away from people who haven’t given you room to grow and change.”

“Wait, what?” Now I was defensive. “Don’t drag me into this. It wasn’t my idea.”

“Sure, sure, but you can still see how it would be good for Brian.” And Tori rushed to continue speaking, “And not just good for Kinnetik, Good for the both of you, for your relationship.”

And well fuck. As soon as she said it, I could see it too. Brian had changed since I met him. And thank god too, right? It had been nearly five years. One would hope he would change. But those around us. Those who loved us, and there was no doubt in my mind that our family of friends, as the girls put it, did love us, they loved him. They just couldn’t see it. They just struggled to see Brian as anything more than the emotionally stunted, disinterested, too cool, version of himself that had been forward facing and nearly all there was of him when we met. And yes he kept that side of him still forward facing but more and more there was something behind that and since those other parts to him didn’t fit in the box he had erected and everyone had believed in, they were struggling to adjust and to expand who he was for himself and in relationship to them.

And it’s not like they singled Brian out for this special treatment. Each of us had a box we lived in and was hard to break out of. Emmett had grown into an incredible businessman but everyone saw him as a flighty queen. Ted was a reliable and loyal friend and employee with a biting sense of humor who was finally finding his confidence, and all anyone saw was a self-loathing, boring, accountant. And Michael had a husband whom he loved, a son, a daughter, a business, and a successful comic book and somehow everyone still interpreted his every move from this assumption that he had some unrequited crush on Brian and was just waiting for Brian to acknowledge their true love. We had all been placed in these boxes and anything we did that was somehow outside our box was ignored or explained away and anything that conformed to these two dimensional caricatures was seen as evidence confirming what everyone thought all along. And maybe that’s what happens when you know someone for 10, 20 years and that happens in any long friendship. But it really took making new friends to see for the first time that we were looking at shadows on the cave wall and not really seeing each other for who we were.

Although speaking of conforming to expectations, “Relationship? Who said anything about a relationship?”

I put my hand on his forearm, “I believe they are referring to our non-defined, non-conventional cohabitating arrangement, dear.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “I’m suing you each for slander. And even if this,” he gestured between us so casually as though a stronger gesture might somehow communicate something, “were some imitation hetero relationship, I wouldn’t make a business decision based on _love._ ” He spat the word like the taste was offensive to him. I just rolled my eyes, like anyone here was taking him seriously. Methinks the lady doth protest too much, and all.

“No, of course not. Love would be a terrible reason to make a decision,” Tori joked.

“Look, just because you,” Brian pointed to Ana, accusingly, like she had betrayed him personally, “Picked up your life and moved it from LA to the Pitts for _love_ doesn’t mean the rest of us are sad saps as well.”

I cleared my throat because calling new friends “sad saps” did not align with the country club manners with which I was raised. I hurried to say, “Also, you two were long distance. We’re not. Neither of us needs to move to be...in close enough proximity to fuck on a regular basis.”

Tori shook her head and laughed. “You sure you’re not considering moving to Egypt, Brian? Because that’s some denial.” And they both dissolved into giggles.

“I’ve had enough out of the two of you for one night. For a lifetime in fact.” Brian stood up and then pointed to me. “And you!”

I pointed at myself and raised my eyebrows in mock innocence, “Moi?”

“Yeah you. You coming?” He walked toward the door.

“There’s my ride, ladies,” I smiled at them and reached over and gave them each a hug and a kiss.

“Yeah, your _ride_ ,” Ana snorted.

“Oh my god, you’re just as bad as he is with your juvenile humor. Tori, we should form a support group.” Brian grabbed me by my wrist. I turned behind me and grinned at both of them before I was yanked out the door.

_This love_

_Is like_

_Mercury_

_Splitting off_

_Endlessly_

_Every time I try_

_To nail it down*_

**Author's Note:**

> *Melissa Ferrick, Anything, Anywhere, 2004 Right On Records, Inc.


End file.
